


Ruffled Feathers

by Flufflybunnypants



Series: Ruffled Feathers [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: De-Aged Castiel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufflybunnypants/pseuds/Flufflybunnypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is de-aged and the bunker, while excellent for hunters, is no place for an itty bitty angel. Dean and Sam are trying their best to take care of the sweet toddler, but it's hard when almost anything could kill him just inside the bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knives and Naptimes

"Cas, NO!" Dean yells in panic. His heart plummets, watching the knife fall. It lands with a clatter on the tile floor centimeters from small toes. "Jesus, Cas. Think before you grab things!" He runs his hands through his hair and spins in frustration, oblivious to the tiny storm behind him. A whimper stops him in his tracks. He looks back to find quivering lips and wide blue eyes.  _Great job, Dean. Yell at a toddler._  “Oh, Cas,” Dean sighs and reaches for him, but Cas shakes his head and runs like his life depends on it, little blue footie pajamas slipping in the wood hallway. 

He chases after Cas, trying not to scare him, but also trying to keep him safe. The de-aged Angel of the Lord is easily confused and vulnerable in his now-young vessel.

He finds Cas with Sam. Sam’s sitting in his armchair in the Bunker’s library, having clearly just put down the tome he was reading. Cas is in Sam’s lap, mouth wobbling as tears stream down his face. “Shh,” Sam murmurs, rubbing Cas’ back, “shhhh, it’s okay sweetheart. Papa’s got you.” (They’d decided within a week of having little Cas that they wouldn’t fight him trying to call them Papa and Daddy. He seemed to find it comforting to have a father who responded, who cared.) Cas is so heartbroken, sobbing chokingly into Sam’s chest. 

When Dean steps into the room, Cas turns around and his big eyes are full of betrayal. Sam lets Cas burrow back into his arms, but his glare is icily directed at Dean.

"What happened, Dean?"

"I just—He grabbed a knife, almost dropped it on his feet. I yelled at him." Dean can’t hide the flush of shame.

"Oh, poor baby," Sam says softly into Cas’ hair. "You got a fright, didn’t you?"

"Scaary," Cas hiccups, nodding vigorously.

"I think Daddy got scared too."

Cas pauses, then shakes his head. “No.”

Dean speaks up, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched, “Yeah, Cas. You scared me real bad. Thought you were gonna get hurt. ‘m supposed to keep you safe, and right now, knives are off limits. It’s too dangerous, Feathers.”

"I think, what Daddy is saying is that he didn’t mean to yell, and  ** _he’s sorry_** _._ " Sam stares pointedly at Dean.

"Yeah, yeah, Cas, I’m sorry, kiddo." 

Cas climbs out of Sam’s lap deliberately, hand twisted in Sam’s shirt to keep his balance. He toddles over to Dean and hugs his leg. “Love.”

"I love you too, buddy." Dean reaches down and Cas lets Dean pick him up. Dean holds Cas close, a faint sniffle reaching his ears as Cas begins to settle. "Tired?"

"Noooo."

"Well, I’m tired, Feathers. Can you keep me company?"

Dean goes into his bedroom (ideally Cas should have his own room, but the Bunker has too many surprises and it just makes Dean less uneasy to have Cas nearby). He plops Cas onto the bed and goes and fills a plastic cup with water and grabs a damp washcloth. “Here, why don’t you drink this.” Cas obediently drinks the water down and tilts his face up as Dean wipes away the tear tracks and snot. “Now, promise me you’ll ask for what you need.”

"P—promithe," he slurs sleepily. "Soooorry." His bottom lip trembles again, so Dean just gathers him up.

"Oh, Cas." He rocks Cas gently, feeling the heat and weight of the angel in his arms. He fishes around with one hand and finds Cas’ fuzzy blankie and Bee. Cas makes grabby hands for Bee, squishing the chubby stuffed animal under his chin. Dean lets Cas take the blankie and rub it on his cheek, soothing himself to sleep. Dean settles Cas next to him and pulls Cas close, tracing the fluffy llamas on Cas’ pjs. He won’t leave Cas alone, not with the very real potential for nightmares. He doesn’t know what will happen when/if Cas is ever aged back up. He doesn’t want to think about Cas never getting back what he has lost. For now though, Dean can play Daddy and keep Cas safe.

He can’t deny it’s gratifying to have Cas need him, to be able to fix things like losing Bee or being hungry, all the little easy things. It makes Dean feel like he’s good, that his ability to care and be gentle hasn’t gone completely. Its like putting Cas to bed, tucking him in every night, is slowly washing away Hell.


	2. Stars, In Their Multitudes

Dean wakes up to tears pooling in his collarbone and small fist catching him in the jaw. Dean turns onto his side, moving the small body with him, and cradles Castiel in the crook of his arm, his heartbreaking for his little angel. Nightmares plague them both, and they have few restful nights.

"Shhh, Cas, it's okay, you're safe." He doesn't restrain Cas, just keeps rubbing his tummy and talking to him soothingly. They don't know what he remembers from being a grown angel, but some things wake him screaming. "Sweetheart you gotta wake up, there's just me, no one else."

Cas' cries turn to whimpers, and Dean sits up, pulling Cas up and letting his baby boy tuck his damp face into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean pulls himself out of bed, careful not to jostle Cas, who is undoubtedly leaving tears and snot on the collar of Dean's t-shirt. He grabs Cas' blankie and snugly wraps it around the small frame, letting tiny fingers hold onto it for comfort. It's a quiet walk to the kitchen, and Dean fills the silence with soothing humming.

Dean plops Cas onto the counter and tries very hard to ignore how sad Cas looks when he steps away briefly. He snags a dish towel and dampens it with warm water, using it to gently clean Cas' face.

Sam stumbles in while Dean's fixing up a bottle. "It's the middle of the night, why're you two up?" It's not an accusative question, just concern. Sam scoops Cas into his arms when Cas reaches for him. More deftly than should be possible at this hour, Sam swaddles Cas in his blankie and props Cas against his broad shoulder. When Sam rocks him, Dean can see that Cas has practically shoved one chubby fist into his mouth and is snufflingly breathing around it as his head sinks to Sam's shoulder.

"Hey there, little man," Sam says, brushing Cas' messy hair away from his forehead. "Bad dreams again?"

Cas nods, and hides his face away.

"Oh, sweetheart," Sam sighs softly. "You're safe here, kiddo, I promise."

Sam holds his hand out expectantly for the bottle, which Dean reluctantly hands over.

You gonna take him for the night?"

"Yeah, we'll be just fine. Right, Cas?" Cas just keeps inhaling his warm milk, and Sam laughs fondly.  

Dean only realizes when he's in bed that Bee is still on the bedroom floor where it must have fallen off the bed. He grabs it and walks to Sam's room. He leaves it on Sam's bed, surprised that Sam's not in there.

Out of Sam's room, he feels a draft and follows it to the open back door. That certainly wakes him up, and he feels that spike of adrenaline.

Outside, with Cas held tightly to his chest, Sam's pointing out the stars. It's something Dean used to do when Sam was a kid, take him outside, all wrapped up and talk  
about constellations until the kid was sleepy again. Cas is so tiny in Sam's arms, little dark head pillowed on Sam's shoulder. It's just too sweet.

Satisfied that everything is alright, he heads back to bed.

When Dean pokes his head into the playroom shortly after breakfast and asks Sam if he'd mind taking Cas for the day, Sam's perfectly happy to keep the angel to himself. They're playing a ridiculous matching game that Dean invented for Cas. He and Sam printed and cut the cards out. The goal is to match the monster to what will kill it. Cas is pretty good at it, his little bottom lip protruding as he focuses on finding what kills the tooth fairy.

Sam likes sitting back and watching Cas go at it, adorable with his brow furrowed, his less dextrous fingers slipping on the cards. He realizes he's zoned out when Cas pats his knee and says, "Papa goooooo." It's a little whiny, a sign that Sam probably missed the first two times Cas said it.

To make up for ignoring Cas, he scoops the angel into his lap and tickles him before using Cas' hands to flip the cards. Demon and lambs' blood, no match.

Following in Sam's example, Cas puts his hands on top of Sam's hands and leans forward until Sam flips the cards for him.

Cas wins the round and turns around in Sam's lap, looking up with a shy grin. "Good?" He asks hopefully.

And Sam just fucking melts. "Very good job, Cas. I'm proud of you." Cas responds by taking Sam's hands and making him pat his own face.

They stay in the playroom until lunch, horsing around. Sam crawls around with Cas clinging under him like a little monkey. Sam keeps one arm under Cas in case he slips, which puts Cas close enough that Sam can kiss him loudly on the forehead to hear him giggle.

After lunch, it's manuscripts and nap time. Sam reads out loud to Cas, and they both enjoy it. Sam's always liked learning and by extension, likes teaching. Reading out loud helps Sam relax and focus and Cas finds it soothing. This seems especially true with ancient manuscripts. Cas will unconsciously correct Sam's pronunciation, even if (and they did test it thoroughly) he can't really read. It seems like language memories stayed almost complete, though Cas' toddler mouth struggles to connect with his brain and form words correctly. But if he's almost asleep, sometimes he'll pipe up and drowsily correct Sam. It's a very strange phenomenon.

Cas naps and Sam is grateful for muscles that let him balance a toddler and a tome. Cas hates sleeping alone, and they can't bear to do that to him. So, Cas gets to sleep in Sam's arms, ear pressed to Sam's heart.

They don't see Dean until after dinner and bath time. Sam's still toweling off his own hair, but Cas is fully outfitted in zebra-themed pjs.

"Hey, buddy," Dean says, lifting Cas up and spinning him around. Dean's grinning like he's left the prize in a cereal box for Sam and he's just waiting for his little brother to discover it.

"Dean," Sam chastises gently, "you're gonna get him all riled up before bedtime."

"Cuz I'm fun," Dean retorts jokingly.

Cas squishes Dean's face and beams, feeding off of Dean's excitement.

"Dean..." Sam tries.

"Come on, Cas." Dean's ignoring Sam. "Lemme show you my surprise and then Grumpy Pants here can put you to bed."

Sam follows them, pretty curious despite himself.

When Sam steps into Dean's room he smiles. Cas is thrilled, bouncing in Dean's arms and clapping.

Dean's cut sheet metal and bent it. He made small covers for Christmas lights, one for each bulb on a strand. And they have star shaped cutouts so the room is filled with shadowy silhouettes of stars. It's beautiful.

“Where do you wanna sleep tonight?” Sam asks Cas, who’s leaning over Dean’s shoulder.

“Daddy room.” He has pleading eyes like Sam would say no.

“Alright, come give me a goodnight hug, Cas.” Cas hugs him hard, tiny arms straining to grab Sam. Sam kisses Cas’ forehead and hands him back over. “Don’t let daddy keep you up, okay? He’s a bad, bad man.”

“Good daddy,” Cas disagrees and Sam laughs. Dean lets Cas’ fingers slip into his mouth as Cas pushes up on his arms to wave to Sam’s retreating figure.

He bundles Cas up in the comforter and lies down with him, letting Cas quietly watch the stars. When Cas starts to yawn, Dean hums to him until his eyes are shut and he’s sucking unconsciously on his fingers. Dean can be a good daddy. Dean can make Cas happy. Maybe, just maybe, he can even make Cas feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on my phone so please let me know about spelling errors and shit. I'd be grateful.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean ‘abducts’ Cas from where he’s running unsteadily around the library and giggling every time he runs into a bookcase and falls backwards onto his diaper-padded butt. Cas is more than willing to let Daddy carry him away. Dean finds it greatly endearing when Cas rubs his cheek on the soft flannel of Dean’s shirt and licks experimentally at the buttons. That’s been the new thing, Cas licking things to claim them.

Dean puts Cas down in the kitchen, but Cas pouts and clings to Dean’s jeans’ hem.

“No, no, no, Cas, come on.” Dean tries his best to move without stepping on tiny fingers. In a flash of genius, he reaches into the lower cupboards and pulls out pots and pans. He grabs a wooden spoon and hands it to Cas. “Have at it, little man.”

His curiosity piqued, Cas taps the nearest pot with the spoon. Delighted by the noise,  he does it again and again, with more vigour.

Dean grins at Cas’ glee and, with the toddler sufficiently distracted, starts preparing dinner.

When the stew is simmering on the stove, Dean starts chopping fruit for dessert. There’s an inquisitive pat on the back of Dean’s knee when he pulls out the raspberries. Dean looks down to see Cas staring up at him like a nestling, mouth open hopefully. Cas has sat himself on an upturned pot and is lightly drumming his feet on the floor. He uses the long-handled, wooden spoon to point at his mouth and grunts encouragingly at Dean, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. Dean laughs and plucks a raspberry out of the small, plastic carton in his hand. He pops it into Cas’ mouth and smiles as Cas turns back to his pots, little pink mouth chewing steadily. Cas repeats this routine with the oranges and the figs.

Dean goes into the pantry for like five minutes and when he comes out, Cas is sitting in a large tureen with a pot lid on his head.

He’s so cute, beaming at Dean from under the broad rim of the lid. He knows well what he looks like and he’s trying to get a laugh out of Dean.

Dean doesn’t disappoint. He hefts the pot up and muses out loud, “ Hmm, this soup looks pretty yummy. Too bad Cas isn’t here to eat it. I’ll just put it on the table so Sammy can gobble it up.”

A giggle bursts forth as Cas’ hands pat Dean’s fingers where they’re curled around the pot handle. Dean feigns surprise as he puts the pot on the counter and plucks Cas out. Cas keeps the lid on his head, holding it firmly.

“You wanna ask papa to come to dinner? And show him your new hat,” Dean suggests, smothering laughter.

Cas nods earnestly. Dean sets him down and points him on his way. Dean watches Cas toddle down the long hall, edging carefully around the doors marked with red tape until he reaches the door that’s cracked open. He leans on the door until it give way for him and Dean can hear his delighted cry of “Papa!”

Dean goes back to his dinner preparations, knowing Cas is safe. He’s pouring the stew into a serving dish when Sam comes in, followed by Cas.

Without a word, Sam starts setting the table. He tells Cas to get a bowl and a cup from his drawer. Cas goes to the lowest drawer and pulls hard, almost falling back with the effort. Cas carefully selects an orange bowl and a purple cup, both in sturdy plastic. One arm holding his dishes, one hand holding the pot lid on his head, he follows Sam to the dining table. Dean grabs a ladle and two cans of root beer, telling Sam to move the stew to the table.

Cas gets milk and some significantly cooled stew. Dean and Sam get hearty bowls of stew and root beer. Sam runs back into the kitchen and finds some decent bread. He only gives Cas small bite-sized pieces, for fear of Cas choking. Cas happily shoves assorted meat and veggies into his mouth with his rubber-coated spoon, and takes a bite of bread for every few bites of stew. There’s a pleasant silence as they all eat. Dean swears he’s gonna burst right out of his jeans.

Afterwards, Sam clears away the stew and the dishes while Dean pulls out desert. He’s made mini scones with a piece of fruit and a spoonful of sugar baked into the center of all of them. They all have a few scones( Cas will not let Dean have the fig ones), enjoying the light sweetness after a heavy meal.

Cas finishes  most of his desert before he starts fading. He’s blinking sleepily and starting to whine quietly.

Dean takes Cas and wipes his face clean of crumbs. Scowling, Cas tries to bite the towel assaulting his face.

Dean chides him gently, but looking at those sad, blue eyes, Dean can’t hold it against him. Cas fusses through teeth-brushing, but submits to Dean’s efforts to put him in pajamas.

Cas hauls Dean back to the kitchen, tripping, stumbling, crawling, to where Sam is faithfully doing dishes. Cas clings to Sam’s ankle, too tired to even whine. Sam puts the glass he’s washing down and dries his hands.

Dean gently nudges Sam away from the sink. “I’ll do the dishes, you take him.”

Sam leans down and pulls Cas into his arms. Cas is sucking on his ring and middle fingers, eyes closed. He settles against Sam’s shoulder, burying his face in Sam’s neck. The only move he makes when Sam presses a kiss to the top of his head is to wrap his free arm around Sam’s neck.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Okay, so I was playing around with CS2 Illustrator and I made this drawing of tiny Cas and his fave stuffie, Bee. If any of y'all can art, I'm dying for itty bitty angel art.

 

Come talk to me about bby Cas or send me art or headcanons and whatnot at http://dark-stars-and-a-quiet-moon.tumblr.com :D


	4. Mud Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all I know I've been AWOL but I've got a new chapter of fluff here. I'm probably gonna make a separate work in this series for a little more hurt/comfort kind of thing because I've got one of those half-finished but it doesn't quite flow with this where I have it right now.

Cas is only wearing a diaper, but he doesn’t seem perturbed, He’s sitting in his high chair, slapping sticky hands against the tray. Sam laughs at the sight of him, catching Cas’ attention. Given that Dean’s covered in flour and Cas is dribbling blueberry juice down his front, Sam can surmise that Dean’s making pie. He drops a kiss on Cas head as he walks past and leans over the counter to watch Dean add the finishing touches on his pie. Dean takes the dish carefully and slides it into the oven. “Hey, Sammy, you mind wiping down the little juice monster?”

“I got it.” Sam snags a dishrag and dampens it under the sink faucet. “Hey there, little man. How the hell’d you get so sticky?”

Cas gurgles and sticks out his purple tongue when Sam scrubs at his face. Sam gets all the trails of juice on Cas’ chest and then takes each tiny hand in turn to clean in between Cas’ fingers.

“Up! Up! Up!” Cas reaches up demandingly.

“Yeah, c’mere,” Sam sighs with mock exasperation. He scoops Cas up and spins him around. Cas squeals and kicks his feet. Sam lifts Cas onto his shoulders, suppressing a wince as Cas tugs a handful of hair. Sam keeps a firm grip on Cas’ chubby calves as Cas flops forward over Sam’s head to press a slobbery kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Thank you, Cas,” Sam says, turning to nuzzle the knee on his left. Cas pats his face, apparently content to stay curled over Sam’s head.

“Is it naptime?” Dean asks, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Yeah, I think he’s worn out.”

Cas punctuates that by yawning loudly very close to Sam’s ear. Dean laughs and shoos them off. Sam carries Cas to the converted playroom. He sits down in the big rocking chair and slides Cas down into his arms. The baby basket by the rocking chair has everything he needs. He tugs out a baby blanket to swaddle his little angel. Cas manages to wriggle a hand free of the wrapping to reach for Sam. “Pa—” His words dissolve into another yawn. Sam laughs softly and shifts Cas up so his head is over Sam’s heart.

Leaning back, he rocks slowly, talking quietly. “Shh, yeah, that’s it, Cas.” Cas’ eyes drift shut, his hand curled into the collar of Sam’s shirt. Sam finds himself growing sleepy too. He closes his eyes for just a moment.

When he wakes, he and Cas are covered with a throw from the living room. Cas looks like a doll, still fast asleep. His dark lashes fan out over round cheekbones and his little pink mouth is pursed thoughtfully. Sam shifts so save his arm, which is falling asleep from being pinned under Cas. Unfortunately, that jostles the little angel. Cas grumbles and wriggles, settling with his fingers in his mouth and his eyes on Sam.

“Hey, sleepy,” Sam murmurs. Cas watches him, blinking slowly. Sam carries Cas to the changing table and unwraps his blanket. Cas holds the blanket with his spare hand. Sam changes Cas quickly, noting the goosebumps on his skin. He tapes up the diaper and plants a loud kiss on Cas’ tummy. Cas smiles around his fingers and then bursts into giggles when Sam blows a raspberry on his knee. Sam does it again, just to feel the soft baby skin and hear the muffled laughter. Cas squirms under the ticklish onslaught and bats at Sam’s head.

“There’s my boy,” Sam says with a wide smile. He messily wraps Cas back up and bounces Cas on his hip. “You wanna go find Daddy?”

Cas claps. “Daddy now!” He happily wraps spit-slick fingers into the edge of Sam’s unbuttoned flannel.

“Let’s get a shirt for you first.”

Sam digs in a drawer and finds a black onesie, which serves his purpose just fine.  He sets Cas on the floor. Cas helpfully lifts his arms so Sam can slip it down over his head. Sam leaves the bottom unsnapped and offers Cas his hand. Cas takes a finger and pulls Sam to the door, bare feet pattering on the floor. They wander through the Bunker, trying to find Dean. When they reach the garage, Sam isn’t surprised to find Dean with his hands in the guts of a car. The Louis Armstrong record crooning in the background is a little more unexpected. Dean hears them come in and turns, using a rag to clean his hands. “Hey.”

“Daddy!” Sam has to lunge forward to stop Cas from falling on his face in his hurry to get to Dean.

Dean wiggles his still-smudged hands at Cas. “Sorry, buddy, lemme clean up first.” Dean scrubs up at the kitchen sink. Hands clean, he holds his arms out, letting Cas run and jump into his embrace. Dean tosses him up and catches him, as Sam makes disapproving noises. Cas slams his palms into Dean’s shoulders and demands, “’gain! Do ‘gain!”

Sam’s long since given up on stopping games of ‘toss-the-baby’ so he just leans back and waits.

When Cas can barely breathe for laughing, Dean settles him back onto his hip.

“Hey, Dean, d’you know where we put the tarp?”

“Blood-tarp or dirt-tarp?” Dean cocks his head curiously.

“Dirt.”

“I think I shoved it somewhere in the garage. Why? You planning on gravedigging?”

“No. But I wanted to take Cas outside. It’s finally stopped raining. I figure some sunshine is probably good for him and we’ve got a few hours of decent warmth left today.”

“Alright, have at it.”

“Actually…” Sam shifts a little guiltily. “I want you to take him. I’ve been thinking I should look at some of the old Man of Letters journals we found in that closet last week and see if they have anything on de-aging.”

“Alright, Sammy, go get your geek on.”

“Make sure he wears a jacket, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, I never let you catch pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia isn’t caused by exposure—” Sam trails off as Dean makes shooing motions at him. He’s not actually sure if an angel can get pneumonia, now that he thinks about it.

“There we go, lil’ buddy.”  Dean is pretty proud of his handiwork, having wrestled both socks and shoes onto Cas, despite a significant protest attempt. Cas was only placated by the promise of pie. Maybe Dean’s parenting is unorthodox, but hey, there’s no guide for “How To Raise Your Angel Best Friend Who Got Cursed By A Witch” lying around.

Dean packs the promised slice of pie in a Tupperware and roots around in the garage until he finds the tarp he’s looking for. Even better, in his search, he finds a slightly ratty picnic blanket. Blanket and pie in one arm and Cas’ hand in his, they make the slow trek to the outside.

Sam was right, it’s decently bright and warm and Dean takes the time to spread the tarp and then the blanket on the slightly sodden grass. He turns around to find Cas has already toddled off to touch the trees. There’s a warded area around the bunker, so Dean feels okay about having Cas out of arm’s reach. Cas occupies himself with petting different leaves and touching tree bark. It’s some kinda fun for him to explore the outdoors. He doesn’t get out as much as he probably should, but that’s the unfortunate side effect of having wanted men for parents.

Dean opens the Tupperware and taps the fork against the plastic to get Cas’ attention. “You hungry?”

Cas sprints back to him at top speed and scoots close, eagerly looking up. Dean laughs. “That’s the spirit. I knew we’d convert you from Sam’s rabbit food.” He feeds Cas a little bite, trying to scoop up the blueberry juice that threatens to escape Cas’ mouth. By the time they’re nearly done, it’s become wildly apparent how unsuccessful that attempt was. Cas’ mouth and chin are quite purple. When Dean holds out the last bite of pie, Cas shakes his head and turns away. “You all full, huh?” Dean slips the pie into his own mouth, and mentally congratulates himself on making a damn good pie. He picks Cas up and puts him in his lap, feeling Cas’ round tummy. “Little glutton,” Dean teases, pressing a kiss to Cas’ forehead. It’s so easy to be affectionate with Cas; it’s like having young Sammy around again. Little kid just following him around like he hung the moon. Cas stretches his arms up and then wriggles around until he’s lying upside down in Dean’s lap. He props the soles of his shoes against Dean’s chest and pushes lightly. Dean leans back a little, propped up on one arm, using the other to rub Cas’ tummy.

Of course the peace and quiet only lasts so long. Cas rolls and stumbles out of his lap to go do something behind Dean’s back and by the time Dean walks over to him, Cas has managed to kick off his shoes and socks and he’s squatting on the edge of a mud puddle. He looks up when Dean’s shadow falls over him. Dean’s surprised when Cas tugs his hand insistently to pull him down next to him. “Whatcha lookin’ at, Cas?”

“Look!” Cas points, his little toes curling in the soft earth.

There’s a trail of ants trying to make their way over the soggy ground, seemingly stymied by a pool of water they’re trying to circumvent.

Cas keeps pointing at the ants and looking sadly at Dean.

Dean gives Cas a bright smile. “Here’s what we can do. Can you go get me one of those big leaves?” He indicates the tree with branches low enough to the ground that Cas can reach them. Cas takes off running and comes back with a messy handful of leaves. Dean carefully takes one. “Thank you. Okay, see, we’ll build the ants a bridge.” He puts the leaf down so it straddles the water and sure enough, the ants begin to test it out. Cas’ face is full of wonder. Dean remembers the first time he shot a bottle off a fence with a sawed-off and thinks that this feels just about as good.

Cas wants to stay there and watch the ants forever, but soon enough the sun is hanging lower in the sky and with Sam’s words in his head, Dean feels obligated to keep Cas warm.

“Five more minutes and then it’s time to go inside, okay, Cas?” They’ve learned that five minute warnings help Cas prepare for things he doesn’t like, like the end of playtime.

Cas nods and obediently repeats back, “Five.”

When the five (fifteen, but it’s not like Cas can tell) minutes are up Cas looks perfectly ready to get back inside. Except, of course, he’s got mud from his knees down. Dean doesn’t really want to carry a muddy baby and everything else, so he ponders it for a minute. When the solution comes to him, he crouches down and calls Cas over. “You’re kinda muddy, little man, so we’re gonna get you home the fun way. Ready for a swing?”

“S’ing?”

“Yup.” Dean has folded the picnic blanket and left the tarp partially folded. “You sit here, good, now cross your legs. Dean gathers the corners of the tarp and lifts his cute little package up, to the sound of delighted shrieks. He carries Cas through the bunker, dropping the blanket and Tupperware on the dining table before he deposits Cas in the bathroom.

“Can you stay put for a minute?” Cas knows the word ‘stay’ is serious and doesn’t move.

Dean pokes his head out the door to holler. “Hey, Sam!” The library’s close enough that the nerd can hear him and sure enough, Sam peeks out.

“What, Dean?” He sounds tired and looks frustrated.

“You got the time to bathe the birdbrain?”

“Yeah, actually. Not found anything yet and my eyes are starting to cross.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder sympathetically as Sam passes him to enter the bathroom.

“Oh good grief, Dean, where did you take him, a hippo’s watering hole?”

Dean doesn’t even bother answering as he walks away.

“Well you’re just a mud puddle, aren’t you, kiddo?” Sam asks rhetorically, but Cas nods and says, “Mud!”

“Yeah I can see how enthusiastic you are.” Sam starts the bath water, testing the heat to be careful. Then he starts on undressing Cas. This is probably the primary reason Dean doesn’t do bathtime. It’s the one boundary he can’t seem to cross. And while, yeah, Sam gets that it’s weird to bathe your best friend, when that friend depends on you to live, you kinda have to let go of propriety and just get the job done. Pants and shirt on the counter and diaper in the bin, he puts Cas into the warm water. He hands Cas his trio of duckies and rolls his sleeves up. Cas is perfectly happy to play quietly with his duckies, muttering little nonsense conversations to himself, while Sam soaps him up. Cas’ favorite part is when he gets his hair washed. He always sighs happily when Sam shampoos his hair. Sam uses the little plastic bowl they keep by the tub to rinse Cas’ hair, one broad palm pressed to Cas’ forehead to keep the soapy water out of his eyes.

Sam lifts Cas out of the tub and lets him do his stompy dance on the towel Sam left on the floor, trying to shake himself dry, while Sam grabs a hooded towel from a drawer. It’s the ladybug one, and Cas looks adorable all wrapped up in it. With a bundle of baby in his arms, he heads back to his room and lays Cas on the bed. Cas post-bath is pliant and happy to sprawl like a little prince on the soft deep bedding. Sam starts by rubbing lotion into Cas’ soft skin, tickling Cas and talking to him all the while. He can tell Cas is pretty sleepy, must have been worn out by a long day. He diapers Cas and then holds up two pjs to let Cas pick. “Zebra or stegosaurus?”

Cas ponders it and then points to the orange and yellow stegosaurus pjs. Sam zips Cas up and then rubs his fuzzy tummy. Cas makes happy humming noises when he gets tummy rubs, which is even cuter than Sam thought it could be. Cas is looking ready to fall asleep, but Sam wants to get some food in him first.

Wonderfully, Dean’s made a sandwich for Sam, and it’s just a matter of cutting up some carrots and cheese so Cas can feed himself. He sits with Cas on one knee, one hand holding his sandwich and one hand balancing Cas. Sam honestly didn’t realize how hungry he was, but he thinks he probably missed lunch while he was researching. There’s gotta be a way to fix Cas, but he just can’t find it. It’s frustrating as all hell.

Cas shoves handfuls of cheese cubes into his face, completely delighted. Cas even proffers a handful of cheese to Sam and Dean. Dean declines, but Sam lets Cas squish cheese against his face. When Cas is finally done, Sam hefts him up and carries him to his bedroom. He swaddles Cas in a fuzzy blankie and lets him play with Sam’s hair until he falls asleep on Sam’s broad chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos=tummy rubs for tiny Cas
> 
> seriously, I appreciate those of you who have stuck with this even though it has been obscenely long since I last updated <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and notes remind me that I'm loved and corrections remind me that even though English is my first language I should stop writing at two am...


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